Family In Hiding. Valerie Hansen

what he promised,” McCall answered. “Then, if all goes well, he’ll join you.”

      The expression on Grace’s face was cynical when she said, “I can hardly wait.”

      In Dylan’s mind the same sentiment lurked. Only in his case, sarcasm was not involved.

      * * *

      Grace had no idea where a younger marshal was taking them, nor did she ask, although Kyle did pipe up once to object to their not going home. As long as she and her poor, tired babies were safe she didn’t really care. Not tonight, anyway.

      Picturing tough, belligerent Kyle as a babe made her smile. He’d been such a sweetie—until his sister had come along and he’d ceased being an only child. Conversely, when Brandon had arrived, Kyle had acted delighted to have a brother on his side against the females of the household.

      That ratio was normally two to two since Dylan was so seldom in the picture. His absence was one of the things that saddened her, although, in retrospect, she was glad her estranged mate had not had as much direct influence on their children as she’d had.

      If her parents had been able to cope she might have called upon her own father to step in as a surrogate, but he had developed Alzheimer’s and was so far gone he didn’t even recognize his wife and caregiver these days. Male relatives on Dylan’s side of the family were nonexistent. His late mother had raised him by herself, meaning there had never been a father figure in his young life.

      Perhaps that was the crux of his problem, Grace mused. And, if he’d chosen a role model from work, perhaps someone like his boss, Fred Munders, he’d probably been looking in the wrong place. She wasn’t positive, but since Fred’s wife ran an adoption agency, she wondered if good old Fred might be up to his neck in this mess.

      The unmarked, black sedan approached a modest-looking, darkened house on a quiet, suburban street. The driver parked in front of the closed garage door and started to get out.

      “So, this is it?” Grace spoke quietly to keep from disturbing her exhausted, dozing children.

      “Yes, ma’am. Please stay in the car until I tell you it’s safe to get out.”

      “We weren’t followed, were we?”

      “Only by an unmarked police car, and he turned off just before we arrived so we wouldn’t draw attention.”

      “How long will I have to stay here?”

      “Until McCall or Summers tells you to move,” the driver said. “You need to trust them. They’re good at what they do.”

      “I certainly hope so. What are my instructions? Do I just go in the house and wait? How will I know what’s going on in the outside world? And what about school for the older kids? Classes were almost over for the summer but I know they’re missing final exams.”

      “All of that will be taken care of. Wait here,” the driver told her as he got out of the car.

      Grace watched as he raised the overhead door, returned and pulled the car into the garage. He then moved to a side entrance to the house, unlocked the door and, pulling his gun from a shoulder holster beneath his coat, slipped into the silent house.

      Grace’s fingers clenched in her lap. If this place was so safe, why did he need to inspect it with a gun in hand? What had Dylan gotten them into? The more she learned, the worse the situation became. Unfortunately, at this point, there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about it, either.

      The agent returned. She thought he was talking to himself until she realized he was taking a hands-free phone call as he opened her door and helped her out.

      “Yes, sir,” he said into the headset. “Forty-five minutes. I’ll get them settled and be ready when you arrive to relieve me.”

      “Was that your boss?” Grace asked, more for something to chat about than out of curiosity.

      The agent nodded and replied as he unbuckled Brandon and handed him to her before freeing Beth. Kyle undid his own seat belt. “Yes, ma’am. Marshal McCall will be here shortly.”

      And that meant...? “Him and who else?”

      “Mr. McIntyre and Marshal Summers, I believe.”

      Grace mumbled, “Peachy,” belatedly noting that Kyle had observed the telling reaction. Well, too bad. She had tried more than once to explain to the children why she’d filed for divorce and had basically failed, or so it seemed. Of the three, Kyle remained the most antagonistic, which figured, since he was the oldest. The boy was ten going on thirty, thanks to having mentally tried to assume the responsibility for the family that his father had neglected for so long.

      “Kyle, honey, I’ll need your help with Brandon,” Grace said, hoping that assigning him a task would help her son cope. “Would you please take him to the bathroom and get him ready for bed while I look after Beth?”

      “Yeah, sure. Where is it?”

      “Just head down that hall and you’ll find everything you need,” the young marshal said, pointing. “Clothes in a lot of sizes are in the closet and bureau drawers of the first bedroom. Just grab whatever you think you’ll need.”

      Grace had progressed as far as the kitchen. It was neat and clean, but so very tiny. There wasn’t even a dishwasher! How in the world was she supposed to keep house properly in a place like this? And who was going to tend the yard for them?

      “How long can we expect to be stuck here?” she asked.

      The officer shrugged. “Beats me. I’ve seen these protection programs go on indefinitely. But you won’t be staying here. This is just a halfway house. A place to stage before you disappear for good.”

      “That kind of thing really works? I can’t imagine that a determined criminal couldn’t track down just about anybody he wanted to, especially if he had enough money. What are the chances we’ll be found?”

      “Small, as long as you follow the rules.”

      Picturing Kyle in particular, she asked, “What happens if somebody cheats?”

      He appeared to be weighing his answer carefully before he sobered and said, “Sometimes they die.”

      * * *

      Getting the incriminating flash drive into the right hands had definitely been a relief to Dylan. It was going to feel even better to be reunited with his family—the sooner the better.

      Recorded questioning at headquarters didn’t take long and he was finally given something to help dull the pain in his arm. As he had hoped, turning over the computerized files had led the authorities to halfway trust him. Besides, considering the grilling he’d received in the past few days, there wasn’t anything more to add. Evidently, law-enforcement officials had realized that and were cutting him some slack because he was hurt. Now, if he could just get Grace to do the same....

      As the pain subsided and he started to relax, his eyelids grew heavy and closed. He was half-asleep, slouched in a chair and cradling his arm, when he heard his name in the background.

      One eye eased open enough to peer at the marshals who had been watching him. The woman, Serena, was obviously upset and not shy about letting on.

      “What do you mean it’s gone? I gave it to you.”

      “I know you did. And I put it into an evidence bag and tagged it right away. You saw me.”

      “Then where is it?”

      Dylan noticed her sidelong glance in his direction before she said, “You’ll have to search him again, just in case.”

      “He didn’t take it. He can’t have. He hasn’t moved a muscle since you gave him his meds.”

      “Just the same, it can’t have gotten up and walked off.”

      “Around here?” McCall snorted in derision. “I’m beginning